


Never Far Away

by SETI_fan



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Death, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, I guess Major Character Death but canonical and temporary, Maybe early days of Pike's crush, Though Percy's of course oblivious, at the very least, mention of others, pre-stream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 13:03:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14379228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SETI_fan/pseuds/SETI_fan
Summary: In the wake of Pike's temporary death, Percy is struck by the change in her hair color and what it reveals to the others about his past.





	Never Far Away

**Author's Note:**

> First off, thank you to exhaustedwerewolf for giving his blessing and encouragement for me to write this fic despite it being in a similar vein to his own awesome "you hide it well despite the dark around your eyes"! Hope you like the direction I took!
> 
> This was supposed to just be a brief scene between Pike and Percy, musing over their new similarity, but it turned into something darker and more introspective, which, considering it's Percy, seems appropriate.

He hadn’t planned to get attached. After his family’s massacre, Percival had closed his heart to everything but vengeance, willing to walk the earth a shadow of a man, a vicious ghost adrift in search of the blood of those who had wronged him until he finally settled into his waiting grave surrounded by his enemies’ bodies. And that had been enough. He thought that was exactly what he wanted.

At least until he wound up imprisoned in Dr. Ripley’s dungeon. The torture she inflicted on him was a sharp revelation that his numb form could still feel pain, and that perhaps he wasn’t as ready to join his family as he had thought. The vibrant light of agony seared away the clouds that shrouded his mind, laying bare the fear and cowardice that lay within. He didn’t want to die. He wasn’t ready to stop running yet. He wasn’t done.

And it was in this abandoned cell, scrabbling futilely at his shackles with the urgency of starvation, that they had found him. A group of adventurers with an extremely unfortunate name, but a very useful array of skills. And just like that, his pleas for another chance had been answered, and once again he was permitted to carry on when he should have perished. Only this time, with his wits and a new set of companions about him.

They were kind, like the fishermen who had pulled him from the frozen river years before. They gave him food and an escort and, upon seeing his inventions’ usefulness (and receiving what money he had carried with him as an act of good faith), also gave him a place in their group. As with the fishing boat, he had planned to stay on as long as it was mutually beneficial to do so. There was strength in numbers after all and his incarceration was only proof of how little he had on his own. These mercenaries and oddballs, with their blades and arrows and magic, could help him achieve his revenge. One day. When the thought of returning to Whitestone no longer froze his muscles with icy fear.

So he stayed and fought alongside them. Purely as a business arrangement. They were pretty quickly thrown into a series of perilous situations and he earned his keep and contributed accordingly. The others would banter and celebrate and generally make merry after victories, but he kept a subtle, quiet distance, which they seemed to respect to varying degrees.

As time went on, though, to his faint shame, he actually started to forget about vengeance. Despite his efforts to remain aloof and apart, the vibrant life of the team began to leech warmth back into his sluggish veins. Keyleth, as if sensing the absence of color in his world for the last few years, started to hang around and spend time with him as they travelled. Never in a romantic or demanding way; just like light spreading out to fill a dark void nearby, drawing him out of his observant silences with her bright energy, oddly charming humor, and surprising knack for sarcasm. Before long, Percival began to feel like he had with his sisters in those hazy days before it all went wrong.

At the same time, he found himself falling into a rhythm with the others during battle, learning how to weave his attacks amid theirs and matching their exaltations of victory with his own as they felled an enemy. He stopped distancing himself quite as much as he had before, permitting himself to settle into their non-combat dynamics as well. The first time he met one of Scanlan’s teasing barbs with a witty retort of his own, it had earned him a surprised pause from the rest of the group before they recognized the bone dry humor in his tone and realized that he was willing to play after all.

For a time, things were good. Even enjoyable. Yes, they faced perils unlike anything Percival had seen before and their return to the city of Emon was embroiling them in an ominous political intrigue, but there was an energy in taking on those challenges. A shared sense of power and vitality and righteous anger that pumped through his blood in sync with his companions’. They were a force to be reckoned with and for a time, Percival— _Percy_ —forgot the young man who had been left to die in the icy waters up north and the ghosts of those who haunted him.

Until death found him again.

Technically, it didn’t come for him, but it struck this group he had embraced regardless. The demon in the emperor’s throne room stole Pike’s life in one casual slice, as if it was nothing more than swatting an annoying insect. And just like that, the illusion of strength dropped away from Percy. He hadn’t escaped. The darkness would still keep coming wherever he went, taking away every person he cared about until he was either alone or dead, over and over again.

But even as he stared in horrified shock at Pike’s body, he heard the others around him respond to the cruelty with a roar of defiance and rage. And the old, familiar flicker of dark fire crept through his chest again.

_Yes. Take your revenge._

His fingers tightened around the grip of his pepperbox, remembering the rush of power he had felt the first time he built it and fired it at a foe. He was not young Percival anymore. He wasn’t alone and he was righteously pissed off that some upstart hellbeast with aspirations of power dared to take one of his own again. Growling a curse, Percy turned the strength of his inventions against the face of death itself and joined his team—his friends—in finishing off the creature.

When the demon at last sagged to the ground, a bloodied heap of what it once was, all the power and ferocity seemed to drain away with it. The abrupt silence of the room felt like a vacuum, taking all the noise and energy out of the room as the weight of their loss sank in. Percy had thought his heart already calloused to death, but looking over at Pike’s bisected body on the ground and the battle-toughened adventurers gathering around her tearfully, he knew those scars had not hardened yet.

Of course it would take Pike. Out of all of them, she was perhaps the kindest source of genuine goodness one could hope for. She may as well have had a target on her back for life’s cruel streak of irony. When Percy first met her he had expected to hate her, but despite her religious devotion, she had turned out to be willing to drink, swear, and fight as much as the rest of them and never tried to preach or convert them, which granted her high consideration in his eyes. He respected her ability and her compassion, and what she brought out of the rest of them despite his worst intentions. She was a good person.

And had been rewarded with a brutal, early death.

Percy knew enough not to think of Pike as a child just because of her size, but the sight of her small, blood-spattered hand resting limp on the floor abruptly threw him back in time. Back to Cassandra’s hand stretched toward him in the snow, arrows pelted through her back, as Percy scrambled desperately away in a panicked flight to outrun death.

Yet it had caught up to him again.

_One down._

His thoughts were drawn back to the present as a word cut through the memories.

Resurrection.

They were gathering up Pike’s body with an unexpected urgency and Percy was jerked forward as Vax grabbed his lapel, dragging him out of the throne room after them. He barely kept up as they rushed through the streets of Emon, people parting ahead of them at the sight of their bloodied condition and the body in Grog’s arms.

And then they were inside the temple of Sarenrae, and Percy witnessed his first Resurrection ritual. He knew intellectually that such magic existed, but none of his family had been particularly religious. If Keeper Yennan ever oversaw a ritual like this back in Whitestone, it had never included anyone Percy knew. But now he was not only an observer, he was partially a participant. The head cleric of the temple wove divine magic Percy didn’t understand. He called on members of their group to make offerings to entice Pike’s soul to return. A shiver went through Percy. He wasn’t entirely sure how comfortable he was with the idea of a soul, much less that they could be called back from death.

And if they could, what did that mean for all his family left behind in Whitestone?

Fortunately the rest of the team seemed to be faster to figure out what to do, culminating in Scanlan’s heartfelt gesture that appeared to seal the deal. Percy had never thought particularly much of the bard, mostly considering him a perpetually horny troublemaker gifted with occasional flashes of tactical innovation, but he had to give the man credit. In that moment, his offering and kiss to Pike’s forehead were utterly sincere, without a hint of his usual bravado and lasciviousness. Percy found himself looking down, feeling almost a voyeuristic discomfort that he was privy to this ceremony at all.

But a glow of light attracted his attention back up to the altar in time to see the ritual complete and, after a petrified moment of anticipation, Pike drew a breath of life back into her body. And then the wave of relief and joy chased the pall of death out of the room and everyone dissolved into shaky celebration. Percy mostly stayed back, allowing those more expressive and emotionally-bonded to Pike to be the frontline welcoming her back to the world. Her eyes sought him out, though, as she did an instinctive headcount of her team, assuring herself she was the only one who had fallen, and he gave her a small smile back in return. The idea that someone who just died could look happy and relieved to see _him_ alive struck him in a strange way, like something undeserved, but he had to admit it warmed a little corner of his heart.

Which was a kindness, because the rest of his chest had chilled with a deep-settling darkness. For all that the spell had restored Pike to life and health, it had left a permanent mark on her. Her once-dark hair had turned shock white.

The same shade as his own.

There hadn’t been a lot of time to comment on it. After the emotions had run their course and logical thought could prevail again, they realized they had to deal with Uriel and his family, who were still in the throne room. Pike insisted on getting back to work despite her lingering weakness and the others’ protests that she should rest more. Percy understood the desire to do anything that took your mind off things that were too big for the mind to process quickly and argued in her favor that the situation with the emperor’s family needed to be handled before they were implicated as the cause rather than the solution.

If turning their focus back to the matter at hand also redirected their attention from the sudden parallel between himself and Pike, well, that was an added benefit.

The concern turned over in the back of his mind as they carried out the rest of the work of reviving the imperial family and stabilizing the situation. He knew it was only a matter of time before the question came up. These people he travelled with weren’t stupid. Well, most of them weren’t, and even Grog had startling moments of insight here and there. And honestly, the question had most likely occurred to them even before this new development. Despite the diversity of appearances in this world, humans in their twenties didn’t tend to have white hair. Even on the off chance that detail had slipped by them in the whirlwind after Pike’s resurrection, as time went on, there were ample opportunities for someone to think about their hair colors and what it meant. He was pretty sure the twins, sharp as they were, had already caught on and begun putting the pieces together, but neither had yet called attention to it, for which he was grateful.

He had not yet revealed his history or the horrors the Briarwoods had razed upon his family. The others knew he was of noble blood, obviously—his elocution and manner still spoke to that even if his situation no longer did. They knew he had crossed someone who left him locked up as a prisoner, of course, although he had managed to foist them off with a very diluted version of what had really led him to that cell. And they had accepted it all for the time being. There seemed to be an unspoken agreement that they all had things in their pasts that they didn’t particularly want to include in the now, and that suited all of them.

But some of the team were a curious lot too and this sudden connection between him and Pike might be too much to resist prodding at. And dear Keyleth. Bless her tender, well-meaning heart. He could already see new flickers of concern in her eyes when she talked to him and he knew the question was starting to worry her mind too, the one he didn’t want to answer.

And honestly, the one he wasn’t sure of the answer to himself.

He had assumed the pure trauma and shock had leeched the color from his hair. But what if that wasn’t the whole truth? The months between his flight from Whitestone and coming back to himself on a fishing boat were a blur. What if he had truly died in that escape and been resurrected somehow, although still too addled to remember it?

It changed nothing, he supposed. It neither lessened nor heightened the tragedy he had endured, nor changed anything about his plans for the future. Probing the issue further would give him neither clarification nor direction, and so it was pointless to let it agitate his mind when he had better things to do.

Not that that stopped the tiny question from twitching in the back of his brain like a nervous tic he couldn’t quite shake.

Life kept the team distracted for a while more. Their efforts to save the emperor awarded them a new standing in the city, with a position on the council and a real proper keep to be constructed for them outside of town. After years in the shadows and on the road, Percival felt his noble bloodline stirring again, the well-trained instincts of intensely refined breeding straightening his shoulders and deepening his accent just faintly. It also raised just enough of his former pride to join Keyleth in insisting that they finally choose a more respectable bloody name for their group. A de Rolo being a known member of the SHITs was a blow his family history didn’t need on top of everything else.

At the parade in their honor, Percy had to admit a slight quiver of anticipation ran through him as his name was spoken in wider and wider context, wondering just how far and abroad this news might travel. Perhaps all the way back to Whitestone…

But before he could consider that for too long, life continued to occupy their attentions. An enjoyable Winter’s Crest festival was disrupted once again, this time to chase a particularly nasty bastard who was kidnapping children to enslave in his own dimension. They defeated him, of course, but not before death struck again in a more insidious way, as one of Keyleth’s attacks inadvertently killed one of the children they were trying to save. Although the others assured her it was an accident, or teased her to try to lessen the heavy mood, Percy could see how much it affected her. And as he put an arm around her shoulders on the walk back home, he considered whether death, deprived of its claim on Pike, took a spiteful strike at the other kind heart on the team in retribution, or if that was assuming too much emotion on an uncaring, inevitable force.

With the rescued children returned to their families and the gratitude for that accepted, the exhausted team settled back into the inn they had rented rooms at. And for the next few days things were fairly calm. With the city finding its routine again in the wake of the holiday, they were free to catch up on the errands and chores that needed doing. A courier from the palace brought word that they were to meet with Riskel Daxio soon, the man who would oversee the construction of their keep, to make any requests they had for the design.

A proper workshop was definitely going to be Item 1, Percy mused as he tried to work on new ammunition for his guns in the corner he had rented from the smithy next door to the inn. He had achieved wonders, building his pepperbox in a barn after all, and manufacturing as much as he could with what resources he had available in their travels, but a real, genuine workshop, with all the tools he needed… Well, who knew what he could create?

Percy let his mind drift over such ideas as he fell into the comfortable rhythms of hammering, casting, and distilling the components necessary for his weapons. This late in the evening the blacksmiths who owned the place had closed up business for the day, so he had the building to himself. The familiar noise drowned out the bustle of the city outside and the stresses they had been through lately, replacing it with calculations and design and the steady focus such intricacies required.

So lost was he in this world that he didn’t notice the figure in the doorway until he turned to reach for a fresh piece of metal to begin shaping. He started slightly, surprise breaking through his thoughts as he recognized the petite woman leaning hesitantly in the doorframe. He had honestly been expecting Keyleth to seek him out, as he knew the child’s death was still troubling her, but apparently this was not that time.

“Oh. Pike,” he said, setting down his tools and pushing up his goggles. “I didn’t hear you come in. Did you need something?”

She shifted awkwardly, her hands fidgeting together. “No, sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt you. I just…I wondered if it would bother you if I just hung out over here for a little bit?”

He hesitated. It would, a bit, as he was getting into a good work rhythm and wasn’t exactly in the mood for conversation just now, but he knew better than to say such a callous thing to her. Pike never meant anything but goodwill and he did his best to restrain his sharper responses around her unless he was in a particularly foul mood, in which case anyone was fair game.

“I suppose that would be all right, if that’s what you want. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be next door, where there’s less chemicals and more company?”

A slight wince crossed her face. “Honestly, company’s kind of what I was trying to get away from.”

Ah. “Scanlan getting particularly persistent today?”

“No, well, no more than usual. It’s just…” She drew a breath, then hastily backpedaled a statement she hadn’t actually made. “I love everyone and appreciate that they want to spend time together lately and feel a little freaked out since I died and everything, I do, it’s just…”

Percy arched an eyebrow, a bit intrigued with his life that such a sentiment made sense and sounded casual. “Mm. So much affection can start to get a bit smothering, I’d imagine.”

“Yes!” She sounded relieved the words were out without her needing to have said them herself. “Yes, it can. I mean, I’m grateful they care so much, I really am, but the way everyone’s hovering is starting to get a little overwhelming. And…a little… annoying?” She winced at her own words as if her goddess would hear and punish her for them.

Percy chuckled, a little flare of pride welling up for her. “If it’s easier for you, I could vent my own list of annoyances with the group and you can simply agree with them when they apply.”

That drew a slight smile from the corner of her mouth and some of the tension calmed from her muscles. “No, that’s all right. But if it doesn’t annoy _you_ , I was just kind of wondering if I could hide out over here for a bit? I don’t want to talk or anything, just… This is one of the last places they would expect me to go.”

He supposed he would be hard-pressed to turn her away now. Percy glanced around, confirming there were a few surfaces with nothing particularly caustic or hazardous on them where she could sit. “All right, just stay over on that side of the room. I’ve got a few things in progress here I plan to keep working on, so if you wanted peace and quiet this is probably the wrong place.”

“No, that’s fine, I figured you would. I just need some time away from anyone who’s worried about how I’m feeling.”

He considered for a moment if that assessment should offend him, but she didn’t seem to mean it critically and it wasn’t exactly inaccurate, at least in terms of him pressing her to discuss it, so he let the comment pass without response. Instead, he offered a stool so she could climb up to sit on an unused section of a workbench near the door and returned his focus to the ammunition he was working on.

True to her word, Pike didn’t interrupt him, either to help or distract. She simply leaned back against the stone wall, knees folded in front of her, and sat in silence. He was sure the hot, smoky air had a fairly chemical smell to it and the noise was dinning, but she didn’t complain. He glanced over once in a while and saw her eyes either idly following what he was doing or focused distantly, away in her own thoughts. Content that she didn’t expect anything from him, Percy let his attention roam over the work at hand and the occasional ponderings that wandered the back of his mind as his fingers moved through their tasks automatically.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but eventually he glanced over to see if she was still there. He half expected to see her asleep, but instead he noticed she was still perched on the workbench, eyes focused. She had taken down her braid at some point and was now toying with the end of its white strands with one hand while her other ran across the table’s surface, picking up a layer of soot.

She seemed to notice the noise of his work pause and looked up. “Everything okay?”

“Hm?” He shook his mind back into social mode. “Yes, fine. You?”

He kicked himself briefly because that was the one thing she had wanted him not to do.

She didn’t seem to notice, though, looking back at the dark smudges on her fingers thoughtfully. “I’m fine.” She pursed her lips thoughtfully. “It’s probably stupid to ask, but…do you think soot could be used as a pigment? You know, to dye things?”

His eyebrow arched. Of all the topics he could have imagined Pike bringing up, a craft question was not one of them. He scratched his brow. “Ash and soot have certainly been used in pigments for years. It doesn’t work on all surfaces equally and the richness of the color depends on what you burned to make it, what medium you mix it with, but it has its uses. Did you have anything in particular in mind?”

The answer to his own question clicked as soon as he noted how she was still running her fingers down her braid. Her shock white braid.

“I’m not sure,” she said, not noticing his comprehension yet. “Just thinking…”

Percy hesitated awkwardly. This was precisely the kind of position he had not wanted to be put in. But then again, there was a difference between speaking about such things before the entire group and speaking with just one individual. Especially when that individual was Pike and she had just endured a greater trauma than someone like her deserved.

He cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. “Well…regardless of exactly what you’re intending to dye, I suspect there are craftsmen out there with better knowledge of such pigments than I have. But if you needed some amount of discretion, I could probably do some research and see if I could work something up.”

He wasn’t sure if it was something in his tone or his phrasing, but her eyes suddenly shot up to his and it was clear she knew he had figured out her intent. She flushed slightly. “Oh, sure, I’m sure I can ask Keyleth or Vex, they might know more about that kind of thing. Sorry. I said I wasn’t going to bother you.”

“No, not a bother at all,” he assured quickly, and honestly, sincerely. “You’re remarkably quiet. It was almost like you weren’t here at all.” He gave her a slight teasing smirk to try to break the mood.

Instead, her face fell slightly, eyes darting back to her hands which where twisting with each other again. “I’m thinking about going away for a bit,” she said, softly.

That brought him up short. His heart thudded weirdly. He briefly wondered if it was something he had said or done, but he dashed that notion. They barely spoke most days and there were vastly more significant things that had happened in the last few weeks to inspire such an idea. “Oh. In what way?” he stammered instead.

She looked up again, her instinct to reassure and comfort surpassing the guilt. “Not forever! Not even for that long at all. I just…” She paused, the words apparently fighting her. “I died. I came back, yeah, but I died. And while I’m mostly okay with it…I’m kind of not. And everybody here’s trying to be okay with it too, but _they’re_ not and I don’t want to be responsible for them not being okay again. Does that make any sense?”

Percy leaned his hip against the workbench, tracking through that repetitive series of articles and conflicting statements. “I think so. And you think leaving will make everyone feel better?”

“No! No.” She grimaced, clearly anticipating the dismay this choice was going to cause their friends. “But I need to. Just for a little while. The courier said it’s going to take months to build our keep, and we don’t have anything big going on right now, so it might be a good time to take a break. I need to take time for myself.” Her voice was more certain now. “Prove I can do things on my own, get stronger. The glabrezu killed me in one strike, before I could even react. I can’t let that happen again.”

“I’m sure Grog would be more than happy to work with you, come up with a…training regimen,” Percy suggested, not even sure why he was trying to dissuade her.

She chuckled bitterly. “He would love that. But even he’s being protective of me lately. I need to prove to all of them I’m strong enough to be a value to the team.”

Percy’s heart twinged a bit, his voice coming out softer than he was expecting. “You’re already a great value to this team. You know that.”

She smiled up at him. “Thanks. But I want to be more.”

Percy held her gaze, seeing the spark of warrior’s determination in them that seemed so counter to her cleric appearance. He gave a resigned sigh from his nose, folding his arms. “Well, I can’t fault anyone that aspiration. Have you decided where you want to go?”

A bit of the nervousness eased from her at his acceptance. “I’m not sure. I’ve always been curious about the sea. I was thinking about joining a ship for a while.”

Percy nodded. “Not a bad idea. You could certainly build strength out there. And boats are good for getting away from things. Keeps your mind and hands busy, so they don’t linger on things you don’t particularly want to deal with.”

He stopped, realizing he had perhaps revealed a bit more than he intended, but Pike was just nodding at his advice, mulling it over. “Yeah. Maybe I’ll ask around the docks tomorrow. Start seeing what my options are.”

“Have you talked about this with anyone else?” Percy asked.

“No.” She rubbed her hands on her pant legs. “I’m kind of dreading it.”

“But you were willing to tell me?”

She looked up again, that same small, kind of fond smile on her lips. “You’re easier to talk to, for some things. You don’t judge or lecture, and you’re good at keeping secrets.”

“Not sure about the first part, but the latter is true enough,” he allowed, shifting his weight. He realized she was still staring at him, a thoughtful look in her eyes. 

No, not quite at him. At his hair.

She saw him notice her gaze, but this time didn’t dart her eyes away. “Percy, can I ask you a question? And if it’s too personal, it’s completely okay to say no.”

Percy swallowed, his muscles going rigid. Every part of his body urged him to escape, to get out, but she had him pinned down with her eyes as surely as if she had cast Hold Person on him. Perhaps it was some effect of her cleric’s abilities. Or perhaps her charm required no magic at all.

He drew a slightly shuddering breath, grateful his arms were crossed so she couldn’t see his hands shaking. He had known this day was coming. It was time to be a man and face it. If he couldn’t tell his story to Pike in private, how could he ever expect to get through revealing it to the whole team?

“You may ask.”

She gestured at the top of his head. “What color did yours used to be?”

That knocked Percy off his proverbial footing. He had to blink a few times, rolling the words through his head again as they didn’t fit any of the questions he had been prepared for.

“Oh.” His hand went up, running through the short white strands. “Uh, brown. It was brown.”

“Really?” Pike smiled. “What shade?”

“Uh, medium. Lighter than Vax or Vex’s, but darker than Keyleth’s.”

“Similar to Scanlan’s?”

He grimaced. “Please never compare me to Scanlan again. Really. Trinket would be more acceptable.”

She laughed now, the sound chasing the remainder of Percy’s defensiveness back into the shadows of his mind. Of all things, she didn’t ask why. Just what he used to look like.

He realized distantly that it was the first time he had spoken to any of them about what he had been like before the Briarwoods destroyed his life. And it didn’t hurt, not the way he had expected. It was nearly casual, gently avoiding the trauma lingering around the subject, just asking about the person he had been. It felt like relaxing a muscle he hadn’t realize had been tensed for years.

Pike had cocked her head, appraising him with an easy smile. “It’s hard to picture you with brown hair now.”

“I didn’t have a particularly memorable look anyway.” He rubbed a hand across his chin. “Maybe I’ll grow out my beard one day. Some of it still grows in the original color.”

“Well, you’ll have a few months while I’m at sea. Maybe you can surprise me when I get back.”

The easy atmosphere faded, a quiet melancholy settling in his chest. “You’re really going, aren’t you?”

She sighed again. “Yeah, I am. But only for a while. Just to get stronger, make everybody proud.”

Percy snorted, rolling his eyes slightly. “You’ve done that already. But I understand and hope it gives you what you want. Just don’t get in trouble out there. The others will be pissed at me if anything happened and I knew and didn’t try to stop you.”

“I’ll do my best. You try to stay out of trouble here. I don’t want to get back and find anybody gone.”

He wondered briefly how much she truly knew, or if she just, like the others, figured they all had secrets they were running from. Except perhaps her. Somehow he couldn’t imagine any shadows lurking behind those soft blue eyes. But then, given the occasional ferocity he had seen from her in battle, he had also learned not to underestimate her either.

Pike blew out a breath, looking up at the ceiling. “I suppose I should head back over. They’re going to get worried soon, if they aren’t already.”

“Well, we can’t have that. Last thing we need is the lot of them starting a search party, armed and ready to take on all of Emon to find you.”

“Grog’s probably ready to take on half the guard anyway just for fun.” She shook her head fondly, kicking her legs off the bench top. “But as overwhelming as it can feel sometimes, it’s nice to know we have family like that, huh?”

A strange twitch went through his heart, thinking of his own family dead and cold back in Whitestone. As much as he was becoming attached to this group of adventurers, he somehow doubted their concern for him would run nearly as deep as it did for their beloved cleric should he be the one to fall in battle. Still, it was nicer than he expected not to be alone anymore.

“It can be, yes.”

She scooted to the edge to reach the stool and he realized she had put her hand right into a smear of soot again. “Here,” he said, passing her one of his cleaner rags. “If you’d like to keep your hiding place a secret, probably should clean off the evidence.”

“Thanks.” She wiped her hands thoroughly, removing the smudge on her leggings from wiping her sweaty hands there earlier as well. Then she passed it back to him. “You have some in your hair too. It’s kind of streaky.”

“Oh, thank you.” He scrubbed the cloth through his hair, suspecting he was making it worse with his own hands still dirty, but given the rest of his face and clothing it hardly mattered. “Better?”

She smirked slightly, confirming his suspicions. “Better. And honestly, I like the white hair on you. It’s a good look.”

“Thank you.” He brushed his hand through it again self-consciously. “And if you don’t mind me saying so, it suits you too. Not that there’s any shame in wanting your original color back, but it’s not a bad aesthetic for you. Goes with the whole divine Sarenrae effect.”

She blushed a bit, hand running along her braid again, her smile getting a bit deeper. “Thank you, Percy.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, turning back to the workbench.

She glanced over where he tossed the rag on the scored surface, her eyes lighting on something there. “What’s this?” she asked, reaching toward the piece of parchment.

He looked down, seeing the plans for his latest design. “Ah, just my own project for the next few months.”

“Another gun?” She peered at the schematic as he shifted it more fully toward her.

“Basically. But with considerably more power than the pepperbox. More of a long-range sort of thing for the larger nasties we seem to keep encountering now.” He mimed holding his two-handed rifle design and firing it, complete with sound effect and the expected dramatic kickback.

She shook her head. “Your mind is amazing, Percy. A bit scary, but amazing.”

He smiled. “Well, I’ll take that as intended. And I’ll do my best not to blow anything up unintentionally while you’re away.”

“Well, that’s good. But don’t go changing completely while I’m gone.”

“Couldn’t if I tried. Now go on, before I have everyone barging in here and tearing this place apart.”

She nodded, then looked a little guilty. “Thank you again for putting up with me hiding out in here.”

“Like I said, not a burden at all.” He tapped his fingers on the workbench, making a decision. “And if you feel the need to get away for a while again before you leave, you are welcome to hide out here as needed. Just…don’t touch anything. Please.”

“I promise,” she said, holding her now once more clean hands up. “You’ll join us for dinner?”

“I’ll be there. Unless you plan to tell them your idea tonight, in which case _I’ll_ be the one hiding over here.”

“Fair enough. We’ll table that for later. Good day, Percy.”

“Good day, Pike.”

He headed back over to the forge as she made her way out of the smithy, the heat of the fire harsher than the gentle warmth Pike seemed to radiate wherever she went. Still, it was more welcome than the cold that lingered in his own mind, seeming more pronounced than usual after the brief company.

Pike was leaving. She promised to return, but he knew life didn’t always allow promises to be kept. And it was a reminder too that each of the members of their little party had their own concerns and goals and ambitions. The time would come when Keyleth needed to continue on with her Aramente and may choose to part ways with the team, if the unfortunate accident with the child hadn’t already driven her that way. Tiberius seemed half in his own world most of the time anyway. One day Percy’s own past might catch up to him and he would have to take his own leave to deal with that threat. And as much as he imagined himself wreaking righteous revenge on the Briarwoods and the treacherous snakes under their employ, he knew all too well there were good chances he wouldn’t return from that mission.

No, this pleasant little bubble they had travelled in for the last few years could all too easily evaporate and he had to be ready for such a possibility. Happiness was transient. The only certainty he had encountered in life was that wherever he went, death would eventually catch up.  
It was a tireless hunter that could only be delayed, never shaken. Good or bad alike all eventually found it waiting at the end of their days.

He picked up the diagram Pike had spotted, considering the design again as he waited for his metal to heat in the fire. The pepperbox itself sat not too far away, never out of his possession for long. As the setting sun darkened the area, the flickering light of the forge cast intermittent shadows along the barrels, making the tiny script of the names stand out against the metal they were etched into. The evening chill crept up Percy’s back again despite the heat of the room.

Death had come for his family once and demolished it utterly. It had tried to start in on his new one now. He wouldn’t be able to stop it, he knew that. But maybe, just maybe, if he _became_ death, he might finally be able to return the favor.


End file.
